


Old Flames, New Scars

by sugarplumfairy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, and i've written porn, shameless fluff, the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumfairy/pseuds/sugarplumfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after Alistair Theirin slays the Archdemon Urthemiel, Warden-Commander Surana pays a visit to Skyhold and finds an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Flames, New Scars

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my Tumblr- and alternately titled "Laurelia Surana Did Nothing Wrong and Deserves a Happy Ending"

“Leliana, I’m glad you are doing well. I feel as though I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Oh, do not worry over me. I am doing what I do best.”

The two walked through the courtyard gates, and were greeted immediately by the red velvet flags of the Inquisition’s heraldry, which flew proudly over the medical bay. Leliana was dressed in her typical light armor, but the woman next to her wore royal blue robes lined with white fur, with a silver griffon emblazoned across her chest. The intricately carved staff strapped to her back identified her as a mage, but even in these tumultuous times, anyone who recognized her knew better than to cross her.

Anyone from Ferelden and most people elsewhere knew her to be Laurelia Surana, the Grey Warden that had stopped the Blight even before it had really begun, uniting all of Ferelden in the process.

She walked slowly, taking in the grandeur of the Inquisition’s stronghold. She took note of the surgeons that had been placed in front of the gate, to intercept the sick and injured coming in for refuge.

“You guys are doing good work here.”

Leliana turned to her and smiled, in her polite and enigmatic way.

“I will pass the compliment along. Unfortunately, Inquisitor Lavellan cannot meet us today- she is on an expedition in the Hinterlands.”

“That’s fine. Not like I’m important or anything.”

Leliana chuckled again. “But enough about us. How are you doing, Miss Warden-Commander? It is still _Miss_ Warden-Commander, yes?”

Laurelia laughed. A shadow passed over her face as they walked under the bridge to the second level of the courtyard.

“Yes. I know, I know, it’s been ten years since Alistair’s… passing…” she trailed off.

Leliana touched her arm lightly as they walked out into the fading sunlight again. Her bright blue eyes searched the Warden’s. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

“Laurelia. I didn’t mean to- You take your time with your grief. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

For a moment, the Nightingale was gone, and she stood face to face with the Chantry sister she had met in Lothering nearly ten years ago. Her face showed concern and sadness, and not just the variety that was a calculated move to gain an advantage. The edge in her voice had vanished, and in its place was something… soft. Something familiar.

“I’m fine, Lel. Really.”

“If you insist.”

Leliana led her up the grand stone staircase, nodding curtly to an agent as she passed him. The cold, professional demeanor had returned, and she made no acknowledgement of the words that had been previously exchanged.

“Before I escort you to your chambers, there are a few people here I would like you to meet.”

Laurelia followed the Nightingale into the Grand Hall, marveling at the vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and towering statues that adorned the room. All kinds of people- soldiers, peasants, and dignitaries alike- milled about, gossiping in hushed voices and crowding around the long tables that displayed a variety of foods from all over Thedas.

Leliana brought her to speak to several nobles, nothing out of the ordinary for her- a simple and polite “hello,” “thank you,” and “goodbye” were usually sufficient for keeping up appearances. She kept her smiles tight- courteous, but nothing more.

They slowly made their way back to the center of the hall.

“I know you’ve had a long day of traveling, and you must be exhausted, but just humor me with one last visit before I bring you upstairs,” Leliana said, a mischievous grin working its way across her face. “He is, as you might say, an old friend.”

Laurelia’s curiosity was effectively piqued, and she followed Leliana towards the first door on the right. Just as her gloved hand reached for the handle, however, the door swung open and a man walked through, his attention devoted to the stack of papers in his hand.

She couldn’t see his face, but from the polished silver chestplate and thick fur pauldrons he wore it was clear that he was someone of importance.

“Oh, Commander, I was just about to go looking for you.”

“Oh yes, I received your report about the lyrium smugglers in the Emerald Graves. The Inquisitor has gone ahead and given us leave to investigate, so-”

Leliana cleared her throat, interrupting him. Laurelia’s brow furrowed as she vaguely recognized the man’s voice, and struggled to match it to her memory.

“This isn’t about the Emerald Graves.”

The man looked up from his papers, casting a quizzical look at Leliana and finally allowing Laurelia to see the brows that framed amber eyes, the unfamiliar, pale scar that ran from his upper lip to his cheek, the strong jaw dusted with much more stubble than it had when they were both nineteen, eager to start their careers in Kinloch Hold.

“Cullen?” Her inquiry was tentative. It seemed impossible to think that after all those years, she would meet that young templar again, in the Inquisition of all places.

He shifted his gaze to her, and for a split second she saw the dark circles under his haunted eyes, the slight sallowness of his cheeks, and the nearly imperceptible trembling in his hands. But then his face lit up with recognition, and immediately soured with shock, and reddened with embarrassment as his hands lost their grip on the papers he was holding, sending them scattering across the floor. He bent over to collect them, then straightened, realizing that he had not addressed his visitor.

“L-Laurelia.”

Her name hitched in his throat, struggled to come out.

“It is, um…” He cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head. “It is… good. To see you.”

The Spymaster looked at him, hiding a smile behind a gloved hand.

“I’ll leave you two to it. I trust that the Commander knows the way to the guest’s quarters?”

Cullen looked back at her with a mix of shock and indignation, his mouth moving in an attempt to speak, but no words came to his assistance. As she walked away, he turned his head to look at Laurelia, then looked down at the floor in an effort to avoid her eyes. At that moment, he remembered the scattered papers and jumped nervously.

“I-I-I- Sorry, I didn’t meant to- Here, let me pick these up.”

He stooped down, gathering the papers and scratching at the itchiness in his cheeks. He didn’t notice that she had stopped to help him until her hand brushed his, and he felt his heart jolt in surprise. And in something else.

Maker, it was like he was nineteen all over again.

He quickly shuffled the rest of his papers into a rough pile and stood up, trying not to watch Laurelia as she got up as well, bending over to dust off her knees.

“T-Thank you. Sorry, I-”

“Cullen,” she said, cutting him short.

He met her gaze, and from the burning in his ears he knew that they were bright red. He managed to mutter out a “Yes?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Cullen allowed himself a small smile. “No, it wasn’t.”

She gestured to his armor. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world, Commander.”

“I could say the same for you.” He looked down with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.

After a moment, he met her eyes again, and he tentatively let his gaze rove over her features. He took note of the gentle creases near her dark brown eyes, and followed the soft curve of her cheek down to the hollow of her collarbone, barely visible beneath the neckline of her thick robe. He slowly panned back up, unable to keep himself from lingering just a bit on her soft, pink lips- the same ones that had captivated him over a decade ago. His eyes slowly traveled back to hers.

“You’ve… aged wonderfully-” Cullen realized a moment too late that those were not the right words. “UM. I mean. You. Haven’t aged a day- I mean-”

He took in a deep breath, feeling heat rise up again from his neck, and looked down quickly, silently scolding himself. He looked back up at her, attempting a weak smile.

“You look lovely.”

_Lovely. Might as well have said “good.” Or “nice.” Maker’s breath._

“Thank you, Cullen. I appreciate it.”

His eyes went wide. That response, and the warm smile that accompanied it, was at the very least unexpected.

“No… no problem.”

Varric had wandered behind Laurelia, into the general vicinity of their conversation, unnoticed by Cullen in his fixation on her. He waved slightly to get the Commander’s attention, and when Cullen shifted his gaze over to him he made a ring with his thumb and pointer finger and jammed his other pointer into it in a crude gesture, letting out a hearty laugh.

Cullen glared at him, the corners of his mouth pulling into a deep frown. Laurelia turned around in curiosity.

Varric greeted her with a gallant bow, taking her hand and planting a gentle kiss there.

“Varric Tethras, ever at your service, my lady.”

Laurelia dipped into an exaggerated curtsy with a giggle.

“You may rise, Ser Varric,” she said in the most Fereldan accent she could manage.

He straightened himself, a mighty bellow rising from his chest. “I’m not knighted, but believe me, I’m flattered.” He looked up at her, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “So what’s this about you and Curly? An old friendship? An old flame?”

“Wow, you must be exhausted, let’s get you to the guest quarters, good night Varric, good night everyone,” Cullen said quickly, cutting Varric off mid-laugh and pushing him aside as he began his stride to the other end of the hall.

“Aw, Cuuuuuullen,” Laurelia whined, still standing in the same spot. “I’m not tired yet. Let’s go for a walk.”

He stopped and turned. “A… walk?”

“Yeah, don’t you ever just… go for a walk?” She crossed her arms with a cheeky smile. “There must be some really beautiful views from up here.”

“I… I mean, I suppose we could,” he stammered. “J-Just the two of us?”

“Yeah! Come on, where do you go when you’re not working?”

“I’m never… not working.”

Laurelia raised an eyebrow dubiously, to which Cullen let out a great heaving sigh. He walked past her, towards the door that he had come out of when Leliana had intercepted him.

“Fine, let me drop off these reports.”

He held open the door for her, and she hurried through to open the next one before Cullen had a chance to. He walked through with a scowl at her invitation.

“Hello, Solas,” he said politely just as Laurelia entered the room.

The elven apostate was standing over the desk in the center, perusing a thick book that lay open on its surface. He looked up at the mention of his name.

“Hello.” His gaze shifted from Cullen to the newcomer. “Warden-Commander, I presume?”

“Yes, hello.” Laurelia walked forward and offered a handshake, but when Solas hesitated she dropped the gesture.

“Solas, was it?”

“Yes.”

“A pleasure.”

Cullen cleared his throat from the other side of the room, where he was holding open a door that led to the battlements.

“Come on, hurry up.”

Laurelia quickened her step and walked through the offered door, walking backwards along the wide walkway to continue facing Cullen.

“Wow, those ten years really turned you into a grump, Commander Rutherford.” She said this with a cheeky smile and a half-laugh, in a teasing tone that- as Cullen mentally noted- hadn’t changed a bit since their time together in Kinloch Hold.

He scoffed, knowing that the only way to win at this game was to play along.

“I’m not grumpy, just busy. I have so many things to do other than play tour guide for an old war veteran.”

“Excuse you, Commander!” Laurelia cried in mock indignation.

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle, and pretended to look through his papers in an effort to hide it. When he looked up again, they were almost at his office door.

“Pardon. This is our stop.”

Laurelia stopped and turned to look at the door that had been behind her as Cullen walked forward to open it. Laurelia followed him inside, taking note of the shelves piled with books, the desk covered in haphazardly placed papers and splotches from generations of ink spills. Cullen walked straight to the desk, making a hasty attempt to straighten his documents and hide his empty ale bottles.

She wandered over to the ladder near the side of the room and looked up to try to see where it led.

“Where’s this go?” she asked, squinting into the darkness.

“Oh, that’s just… my quarters. Don’t go in there.”

She shifted her position, trying to see more. “You sleep above your office?”

“I get more done that way.”

“You mean, you get less sleep that way.”

“Same thing. Come on, get away from there.”

She finally looked away, and saw that Cullen was holding open one of the three doors that led from his office impatiently. Laurelia followed him through the door, sticking her tongue out at him as she did. He shook his head with a sigh.

“You may be turning thirty, but I swear you must be five years old.”

She walked boldly ahead, pointedly ignoring him.

“Where are we going?”

“You said you wanted to take a walk. Here we are. Walking.”

“Well, are we walking somewhere?”

“You’ll see. We’ll get there when we get there.”

He caught up to her easily with his longer strides.

The sun was almost completely gone now, leaving an orange sliver along the horizon with the last of its energy. The night air was cold and thin, and the wind was cool on their exposed faces, carrying the light scent of pine from the mountains that surrounded them. They walked in silence, but the silence was comfortable.

They continued to walk along the battlements, until they came across a set of stone stairs leading up to a higher walkway.

“Just up here,” Cullen said, starting up the stairs.

Laurelia followed him, turning her head to look out over the mist-covered mountains that filled the vast expanse of the Skyhold vista. She reached the top shortly after he did, and she found him resting his elbows on the stone wall that lined the edge of the battlement, gazing out into the distance.

She walked towards him slowly, taking in the spectacular view of the Frostback Mountains as she also leaned on the wall. Neither of them said anything for a while.

Finally, Cullen spoke.

“You know, it’s a much nicer view in the daytime.”

“Oh really?”

“Especially at sunrise.” He pointed out into the dusky light. “The sun comes and casts this really beautiful golden outline on the mountains. The air is nice and crisp, and…”

“…And?”

“Nothing.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked to the other one, with Laurelia trailing. “The view on that side is nice, but if I’m honest I like this one better.”

He leaned against the wall and Laurelia peered over the edge. From that vantage point, she could see nearly all of Skyhold- the gardens beneath them, the courtyard where visitors and guests continued to mill about, the twinkling lights from the windows of the buildings that rose around the fortress.

“Down there, Mother Giselle walks around in the evenings before she retires to her room. And over there, Leliana is probably working as late as I usually do. And there, in the tavern, I imagine they’ll be drinking and singing until dawn.” He leaned forward on his elbows with a sigh. “This is… home. This is where I belong.”

Laurelia watched him as he gazed out over the courtyard. The distant lights cast an orange glow on his face, outlining the hard angle of his jaw. In that moment he was peaceful- his brow was relaxed, and the tiredness in his eyes was replaced by… something else.

In that moment she could almost see the young templar from Honnleath, with his shock of curly blond hair and bright amber eyes, and the nervous smile that he had flashed in her direction more times than she could count.

“Cullen.”

“Yes?”

She reached up and gently turned his face towards her. She felt the skin beneath her hands begin to burn as she met his gaze.

“Do you remember what you said to me in Kinloch Hold? When we found you, outside the Harrowing chamber?”

He looked down, unable to look at her. “Only all too well.”

“Tempting you with the one thing you always wanted but could never have.”

He lifted his eyes slightly to meet hers.

“ _Maker,_ Lauri. Don’t remind me. I was broken, I was mad. I’m a changed man, I-”

“Shh.” She put a finger to his lips, cutting him short. “Has that changed?”

“Has what changed?”

“Your ‘ill-advised infatuation’ with me?”

His heart was pounding so hard that he was almost certain she could hear it. He looked up, past her, as words rose and fell in his throat, trying to fight their way out.

Finally he met her gaze again, his mind made up. He could feel his hands shaking and his face burning, and with a nervous lick of his lips he finally spoke.

“Not in the slightest.”

The second between his words and her reaction felt like the longest second in the world. But when her lips curled into that familiar lopsided, giddy smile, he felt himself release a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She reached up to place her hand on his shoulder, guiding him down to her level.

“Good.”

She wasted little time in closing the gap between them, and as she crashed her lips against his she felt the breath hitch in his throat, his hands ghosting over her sides hesitantly. She glided her hands from his shoulders down his arms, and guided his hands to her hips. His touch was still nervous, shaky, but she released his hands to wrap her arms around his neck.

He broke off first, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his mouth open. His head was swimming as he tried to rationalize this moment, the realization of the dream that had plagued him for years.

“Is this real?” he whispered.

“Yes, Cullen, this is real,” she whispered back, bringing a hand down to caress his cheek as she captured his upper lip in hers. She moved up, kissing along the wicked scar that curved up to his cheek and running her thumb over his rough chin. When she reached the end she breathed a heavy sigh and brought her other hand down, running her fingers softly over the puckered skin.

“Who did this to you?” Laurelia asked, her voice just barely above a breath as her lips lazily trailed over it again.

He chuckled sadly, and she felt the baritone rumble from his throat as he did. He caressed her arm slowly.

“It’s just a scar, Lauri.”

She tilted his head up slightly and let her lips slide against his slowly in a single, drawn-out kiss. She ran her hand down to the front of his chestplate, resting it over his still rapidly-pounding heart. Cullen felt a warmth blossom there- an unnatural warmth, a magical warmth.

Ordinarily, the thought would have given him some pause at the very least, but to even his own surprise all he felt was an overwhelming sense of peace as the warmth spread from that spot like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of his burdens.

When she spoke, she was just a wisp of breath against his lips.

“It’s not just the scar.”


End file.
